


(I will) Cover my Eyes

by wildforce71



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildforce71/pseuds/wildforce71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kíli wakes, for a few moments, on the night of Durin's Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I will) Cover my Eyes

Someone is singing.

For a long time Kíli can't make out the words, or even the tune, really. Just the sense of being surrounded by music. He thinks, hazily, of the single night they spent in Hobbiton, of the lament they sang for the homeland he's never seen. He felt like this then, afraid to join in - it isn't his grief, except through inheritance; he's never been homeless, not with his brother by his side - but surrounded by it, part of it, belonging to it.

After a while he realises it's Fíli, singing the songs their mother sang to them when they were children, songs they've long been too old to admit to liking. Fíli sounds tired, and worried, and lonely, and it's that last one that stirs Kíli to action. He's never been able to let Fíli hurt if there was anything he could do about it.

He manages, after a lot of effort, to open one eye. "Fíli?"

"Kíli." It's barely a sound, just a breath, and then Fíli's leaning over him, studying him anxiously. "Kíli, are you all right?"

Kíli thinks about it; he feels oddly disconnected from everything around him, and there's a throbbing pain in his leg, but that's a lot better than the last thing he remembers. "I feel good." After a lot of thought, he adds, "You sound terrible."

He's expecting Fíli to complain, to be angry, to protest Kíli's making him worry even though he won't mean a word of it. Instead Fíli's hands bracket his face and Fíli's forehead presses against his, hard enough that it would hurt if he wasn't so disconnected. "Kíli," Fíli breathes again. There's a frantic edge to it that worries Kíli.

"I'm all right." Kíli tries to get a hand up to his brother's shoulder, can't manage it, settles somewhere around his hips instead. He's never felt so drained in his life. "Fee. I'm all right."

Fíli lets go after a moment, sitting up, very careful not to dislodge Kíli's hand. "I never doubted it," he says airily. It's so false it hurts. "You are far too hard headed to go down because of a little poison, brother mine."

"Hey," Kíli protests, because he's expected to. "Where are we?" he asks, because he honestly has no idea.

Fíli's face tightens. "In Esgaroth." Kíli frowns, and Fíli adds, "Laketown, in Bard's house; do you remember?"

Kíli thinks about it. He remembers Bard's house the first time around; he remembers the boat, and being set aside by their uncle, left behind as they went forward to glory. There's a vague memory of his brother's hands on his arms, his voice defying their uncle for Kíli's sake. After that everything is a rush of images, confused and unclear, all tainted with burning pain that he instinctively shies away from thinking about. He doesn't want to remember any of it, but he tries, for his brother's sake, forcing his way through the pain.

"No," he says finally. "I don't remember much after the boat. I'm sorry," he adds, because Fíli looks sad.

"You were very sick."

"I dreamed I saw Tauriel," Kíli says softly.

Fíli inhales sharply. "Kíli..."

"I know, it's foolish. She is in Mirkwood, in starlight. Far from here." He's looking at the hole in the roof above his head. "Why does it look like there was a fight here?"

"Because there was a fight here," Bofur says from somewhere out of Kíli's field of view. He makes a half hearted effort to look, but he can't lift his head high enough and Fíli stops him anyway, one hand on his shoulder.

Kíli becomes aware of an odd banging noise; Fíli catches his confusion, murmuring, "He's trying to patch the door. Bard's children helped us, and the Orcs tore the house apart looking for our uncle."

Unaware of their conversation, Bofur continues, "Orcs out of Mirkwood."

"Orcs," Kíli repeats. "What happened?"

"That elf fought them off."

"The blond one," Fíli adds. "Thranduilion."

Kíli vaguely remembers the blond one, fighting alongside Tauriel as though he belonged there. "Why? He hates us."

Fíli shrugs. "Because he likes killing Orcs."

Of course, Thranduilion did belong beside Tauriel, Kíli thinks dully, fighting at her side in the sunlight. Kíli may be in exile, but he is a child of stone and earth, not trees and light. Tauriel should have someone to shine by her side.

Bard's oldest daughter comes by then, to ask if they need anything. Fíli asks for water on Kíli's behalf, and she goes with a nod.

"Kind people," Fíli says, almost to himself, watching her go.

"There are some left still," Kíli says absently. He's studying the hole in the roof, trying to gauge the time. It's dark out; it was morning last he remembers. He's slept at least one day. "Fíli, how long..."

"It's the night of Durin's Day." Fíli looks back at him. "They're in Erebor, or they have failed. We won't know for a while yet."

"I'm sorry," Kíli murmurs.

"Why are you sorry?"

"You should be at Thorin's side..."

Fíli touches his face again, as though he can't stop himself. "No. I should be at your side, right here."

"You'll rule one day, Fíli..."

"And won't our people be happy to know that I place their welfare above my personal glory." He's smiling, though. "Rest, Kíli."

"Yes," Kíli murmurs. "Maybe I will dream of Tauriel again." He lifts one hand, where he can still feel the touch of her fingers.

Oin appears with the water; Fíli helps him sit up to drink it, while Oin busies himself at Kíli's leg. It hurts when it's unbound, and Kíli grips Fíli's arm tightly, but it's nothing like the burning pain that had all but consumed him on the dock.

"How many?" he asks when he can breathe again.

"Four." Fíli doesn't need to ask what he means, has never needed to ask. "Oin stayed to help me take care of you. Bofur was drunk and missed the boat."

"Oi!" Bofur calls, still somewhere out of sight, still hammering away. Kíli smiles faintly.

"But he saved your life," Fíli continues smoothly. "He found the herbs that healed you."

Kíli lifts a weary hand and feels Bofur squeeze it lightly. "Thank you."

"Get some sleep, lad," Bofur tells him. "Don't undo all her good work."

"Her...?"

"Bofur's right," Fíli says quickly. "You should be sleeping, Kíli."

"Yes," Kíli murmurs. He's tired, bone deep, almost unable to think. Reaching out, he finds Fíli's hand by instinct and hangs on. "Don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," Fíli promises gently. "Close your eyes, Kíli."

There's a strange rumble in the air, like a storm gathering far away and moving closer, but Kíli is already sliding back into sleep.

 

_And if the night is burning,  
I will cover my eyes,  
For if the dark returns  
Then my brothers will die_


End file.
